


Forbidden Fruit

by gillianaunofficial



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: F/F, Mildly Dubious Consent, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism, enemies to lovers (kind of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:53:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22392835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillianaunofficial/pseuds/gillianaunofficial
Summary: Prompt: i saw, that you were asking for jean fic ideas and was wondering if you could write a jean x reader one where the reader works at Otis' school and they constantly butt their heads together over the smallest things and end up making out? ♡This ended up as so much more than this and I 100% doubt this was what you wanted! So sorry.
Relationships: Jean Milburn/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

You saw her at the assembly, so full of herself, so articulate with her words and so effortlessly beautiful. After that you began to see her about the school, parading around in jumpsuits, chinos or floor length dresses. She had this way with the kids, even though they’d all laughed at her. She was charismatic in a way that you were surprised she wasn’t actually in a teaching position. She ate lunch in her room, the times she was there, she generally didn’t speak to the other teachers unless she was spoken to. Apart from the very few times you herself had spoken to her.

It was raining buckets outside, the majority of the students vying to stay inside out of fear of ruining their hair or the colour bleeding in their shirts. The canteen was heaving with kids, not just kids, most of the teachers had amassed there as well. You weren’t really friends with any of them, Miss Sands and Mr Hendrix seemed to spend a lot of time either joined at the hip or as far apart as possible. Most of the other teachers were… Boring. To say the least. You held your lunch in your hands, a blue plastic box containing a chicken salad, in your other hand you held a Chilly's bottle. All the other teachers had them, you’d really only bought one to fit in more. You walk over to the teacher’s table and yet it was full, a student badgering Mr Hendrix about a lost trombone. You sigh and walk out of the canteen, intending to go and sit alone in the staff room, maybe check your Tinder messages to look for a hookup. As you think about how to spend your lunch hour you nearly walk slap bang into a woman, you quickly apologise before realising who it is.

“Dr. Milburn.” You say, to her as she stares you down. It seems to be a mutual dislike. She pulls a smile from somewhere.

“I see you have nowhere to sit.” She says, slowly, with a lick of her lips. Something about this makes your blood boil. “Would you like to sit in my office, I’d like to get to know anyone here a little better.” You nod, she would probably dislike the time spent with you as much as you would.

Her room is spacious, an old history classroom, chairs piled on desks in front of a scribbled on chalkboard. She gestures to you to take a seat opposite, you do.

“What’s your name?” She asks.

“Y/N.” You reply, uncomfortable as you open your lunch.

“So, Y/N, what do you teach?” Jean says, leaning back in her seat. The neckline of her shirt reveals just a hint of cleavage. Your shoulders tense at the image.

“French.” You reply.

“Ah, the language of love.” She says slowly, her eye contact piercing as she watches you open your lunchbox. She waits. “You don’t like me very much, do you?” You furrow your eyebrows, surprised at her ability to figure that out.

“How did you know?” You ask, just a little curious.

“Y/N, I’m a trained psychologist, I can tell when someone doesn’t like me.” Jean sighs. You roll your eyes.

“You don’t like me much either though, do you?” You retort, replacing the lid on your salad, suddenly you’d lost your appetite but a craving for something else had set it. Jean stays silent, still inquisitive.

“You know why I don’t like you?” You ask, holding her stony gaze.

“Why?” She asks, placing her hands in front of her, fingers laced together. You take notice of the short fingernails. You lean forward, lowering your voice to a whisper despite there being no one else in the vicinity.

“Because, Jean, you’re so very full of yourself.” You savour each word and Jean almost chuckles.

“And you’re not?” She replies, her face mere centimetres from yours, her breath tickling your face. You don’t reply and she closes the gap between you, one hand grabbing your shoulder, bunching the chiffon of your shirt. Her tongue is in your mouth and you push back, your own hands finding her across the desk, bunching in her hair, maybe this was the one night stand you were looking for. You get up and both stumble backwards, desperately kissing each other, her teeth catch on your bottom lip and you almost gasp at the sensation. She flips around and becomes the lead, pushing you down onto an empty table, grasping to close the blinds so the few people that were outside wouldn’t be able to see their french teacher making out with their “sex education counsellor.” As soon as the blinds are shut, you reach for the buttons on her blue shirt, quickly pulling it off as she stands above you, your legs in between hers. As soon as the shirt is unbuttoned you begin to kiss her chest, relishing the taste of her skin, the feeling of her collar bone between your lips. She pushes you back down and begins to kiss your neck, leaving lipstick smears on your skin.

“Jean…” You moan in indignation, you’ll have to wash that off before class. She presses against you and begins to unbutton your shirt, you arch against her and find a hand grasped in her hair as you push her head against you. She fumbles for the clasp of your bra, nuzzling the curve of your boob as you let the bra fall from your body. You’re certainly glad that there’s no CCTV in this school.

“Do you like that?” She says as she locks her plush lips around your nipple, you feel it harden in her mouth.

“Yes.” You moan, grabbing at her for more. You look down at the erotic sight of Jean Milburn, sex therapist, sucking your nipples. She brings a hand to your other boob, running a finger across your hardening nipple before clamping it between her fingers, you moan and you feel her shiver at the sound. She begins to kiss you again and you push against her, your tongue finding her mouth and pushing against each other. Her short blonde hair hangs down, brushing the tip of your nose. Your hands find her hips, grasping onto her tight as she begins to undress you more, quickly unbuttoning your trousers and slipping a hand in between your thighs. You moan at the contact.

“Y/N, is this okay?” You nodded quickly as you feel her fingers touch your clit, dexterously manipulating your pussy, you arch against her, burying your head in her shoulder and finding her ass with her hands, when you suddenly see a shadow at the door.

“Jean.” You say, she doesn’t listen. “Jean stop. There’s someone at the door.” Jean turns to look behind her.

“Shit, shit, shit!” She says taking her hand away from your pussy, already on the edge of orgasm. “Get under my desk.” She says, zipping her jumpsuit up and passing you your bra. You nod and scramble under the desk while she goes to answer the door. You hear a man talking to her before they both sit down, not a student but a teacher, one from the science department. Suddenly you have an idea and you begin to get to work on it, unbuttoning and unzipping her maroon chinos. She glances down at you, a tiny expression of “really? But ok.” appearing on her face. She talks to the man and you pull her pants down, revealing her pussy. You kiss the edges of her thighs, leaving marks as she talks about using food in sex and light BDSM to the teacher. As she begins to talk about voyeurism you bring your face to her pussy and begin to lick her, flicking her clit with her tongue, you can feel her thighs tensing around you as you taste her slick, pink folds. Pleasuring her, unbeknownst to the other person in the room. You grab her calves with your hands and plunge your tongue into her hole, thrusting like you would with your fingers, with each push your nose just meeting her clit. You feel her getting closer. She looks down at you again and you stop for a moment as she quickly finishes the conversation with the man and kindly asks him to leave. As soon as the door clicks shut you resume fucking her with your mouth, delicate moans becoming louder emanating from deep within her as she pushed against your face, bucking her head back as she came, her juices dampening both her chair and your face. She breathes in a way that you could only describe as panting, before pulling you up to eye level by your hair. She kisses you again and you know she can taste herself on your face, something about that turns you on.

“Y/N…” she pants. “We have to do this again sometime.” You nod.

“When I have a free period.” It’s Jean’s turn to nod as she pulls her maroon chinos back up, fastening them around her waist. You stand and look at her, putting your bra on and buttoning up your shirt.

“Maybe you’re less full of yourself than I thought.” You say, beginning to leave the room. “See you later, Doctor Milburn.” She raises an eyebrow and you exit her room, a breathy smile on your face, your unempty lunchbox clasped in your hands, Mr Groff walks past and gives you a funny look as you shut the door to Jean’s room. You may not have eaten your lunch but you did definitely eat something. And that something was far better than chicken salad.


	2. And This Curve, Is Your Smile And This Cross, Is Your Heart And This Line, Is Your Path

She’s on your mind now. All the time. Since your encounter last week, all you’ve been able to think about is her, and her hands on your body and your lips on hers. It’s Friday. The last day of the week, you haven’t spoken to Jean since, but you have shared a few slight smiles across the hallways, you’ve been finding yourself paying acute attention to every single detail about her. The style of her hair, the shade of her lipstick and even the clothes she wears. You are utterly infatuated with Jean Milburn.

It’s last period. Friday, the only half day you get, leading into a weekend of dreaming about her, as you sit alone in your flat marking tests. You watch as the students trail off from doing the work but you barely intervene asides from a brief ramble about productivity before your mind trails off thinking about Jean again. God. One moment you hated her and now you’re absolutely obsessed. Pull yourself together, you think as you watch the minutes hand tick closer to 12:30. 10 more minutes and you’ll be free. You need to speak to her, to tell her what you’re feeling. That you want more. Maybe she’ll want more as well. Almost in an instant it’s the end of the period and the bell rings, dismissing the students. You say a short goodbye and wait for them all to leave the classroom before switching off your computer and making your way to Jean’s office. You knock on the door, your heart drumming out a staccato beat.

“It’s the end of the day, you’ll need to come back next week.” Jean says, then you enter the room and she looks up as she’s packing a notebook into her handbag.

“Y/N.” She says.

“Hello, Jean.” You reply and lean against the empty filing cabinet next to the doorway. There’s an aura of tension radiating between the two of you.

“I was wondering if you’d come back.” She said, zipping her bag up and sitting on her desk, her legs not quite long enough to touch the floor, even in the wedges you’d noticed she loves so much.

“I was hoping you’d like to…” You trail off, a little embarrassed under Jean’s scrutiny to say what you’d been wanting to ask for the last few days.

“What? Go out for food? Go to the cinema? Go shopping? No I wouldn’t.” Jean’s defences had pulled up, she was used to people coming back to her with these demands that she refused to meet. You stare at her, your mouth slightly open as you try to find your words.

“No, nothing of the sort, actually.” You say, your words disconnected and stuttered.

“Then what?” She says, softer this time, fiddling with the cuff of her orange jumpsuit.

“If you wanted to fuck again?” You’re on edge as she looks at you. She stares but then suddenly bursts out laughing. You laugh nervously with her.

“Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry, I had the wrong idea.” She says, pulling herself together. “We can do that.” You smile, a weight being lifted off your chest.

“Okay.” You reply, unsure what exactly to say.

“We can go to my house, my son shouldn’t be there, he said he was going out with some friends after school.” Jean says, picking up her coat from the back of her chair and putting it on, you stand there, suddenly mortified at the thought of going back to Jean’s house.

“Are you sure?” You ask and she nods.

It only took a single nod for your willpower to break and then you’re sitting in the passenger seat of her blue Mercedes, music quietly playing from the radio as she drives, little conversation between the two of you. You’re nervous, despite having literally fucked her in front of another teacher, albeit from somewhere he couldn’t see, but now you’re in this woman’s car. This woman you couldn’t stop thinking about is driving you to her house to have sex with her. You look at her, her intent stare as she watches the traffic lights. She looks at you and smiles, you’ve made the right decision. You would have gone insane with want if you hadn’t done this.

Her house is large and homely. It wasn’t at all what you’d expected, looking at Jean you’d have thought that she’d own something modern and neat but it’s neither of those things. A sofa sits in front of a coffee table and a TV is surrounded by DVD boxes, there are shelves brimming with books and bowls filled with fruit. It reminds you of the house you’d dreamt of as a child. She asks if you’d like a drink and you shake your head before she practically pulls you upstairs and into her bedroom which is just as homely as the rest of the house. She pushes you down onto the bed, her tongue teasing your lips before kissing you, her legs straddle yours and a hand pushes down on your chest. You kiss before she gets up and quickly discards her jumpsuit to reveal that she wasn’t wearing a bra. She leans over you again, undressing you, her mouth on your lips and on your neck, you moan as she sucks your pulse point, leaving what will probably evolve into a hickey. God, she’s absolutely gorgeous. She gives you some freedom and you begin to kiss her before forcing her into the bed and working her nipples with your tongue, touching the soft puckered skin of her areolas. Her hands hold you by the waist and begin to sneak down to feel the curve of your ass, it’s your turn to moan as she touches you, squeezing the soft skin.

“Is this okay?” She says, taking her lips from your skin.

“Yes.” You reply as a wave of arousal rushes over you. “Touch me.” You beg, from over her, making direct contact with the shining blue of her eyes. She gets out from under you and makes it so she’s sitting in between your legs, you’re still wearing both your bra and pants. She quickly makes sure that isn’t a reality anymore. Jean’s lips travel from your sternum down to your hip bones, leaving long wet kisses. She slips a hand in between your soaked thighs, feeling your need.

“You’re so wet.” She says, and your mouth practically waters at those words as she begins to touch you, circling your clit as you arch against her hand. You clench the sheets as she slides between your folds. 

“Faster.” You say and she goes faster, the muscles of your thighs tense and she’s bringing you to orgasm even quicker than you could with your own hand. You look up at her, her hair only slightly dishevelled, you reach out for her, tangling your hand through her choppy hair, wanting to see her as needy as you are for her. You kiss her hard, teeth almost clashing against each other. Your hand is cupping her cheek, the delicate lines that run across her skin a Braille pattern of her emotions.

“Fuck.” She moans into your lips as your leg bends and your thigh is in between her thighs and she sheds her pants, riding your thigh, getting her glorious wetness all over you. You kiss her and feel her ass before slowly removing your leg from between her thighs. She raises an eyebrow but you quickly replace the limb with your hand, touching her in all the right places. You find her hole and a finger goes in, pushing hurriedly before adding another, and letting her grind against you as you thrust into her. You grab her wrist with your other hand has her hand tries to join yours. Normally she wouldn’t accept this but for once she does, letting you do whatever you like to her. Her face contorts in ecstasy and she begins to moan as you add a third finger to her pussy, it only takes a few more thrusts until she’s coming and she’s all over your hand. You collapse together on the bed, laced in each other’s nakedness. Her chest heaves as she takes short breaths, coming down from her orgasm. You’ve never seen anyone’s afterglow look quite so gorgeous as she does right now. Your fingers end up near her mouth and she sucks the taste of herself from your damp hands before kissing you, her hand finding your hip. It’s so strangely intimate and like nothing you’ve ever felt before. She begins to touch you again but before she can properly start you have a request. 

You’re in between her legs and she’s in between yours and you’re eating each other out, tasting the slick, salty taste. Jean has almost never felt so good and neither have you. Her tongue slides from your clit to your opening, brushing your labia, sucking you and tasting you. And god it feels amazing. You moan into her pussy as she presses against your face. You’ve synced rhythms and work together effortlessly, easily bringing each other to peak again.

“Oh, fucking god.” Jean moans into you and it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. She comes hard and fast, and you do too, her tongue so talented in the act of sex. You shouldn’t be surprised but you are. You’re both exhausted and lie on the bed, naked and too hot to lie under her patterned covers. A sheen of sweat makes both of you glow and you find her hand. You expect her to pull away but she doesn’t. She just looks at you, a somewhat bittersweet smile hanging on her lips. She doesn’t speak and you don’t ask. You just lie there until Jean says she has a client in half an hour and so it’d be best if you left. As you dress, she lies there watching you, still naked and there’s a feeling of vulnerability that you would never have felt coming from her if you didn’t have this single moment. She looks at you as you leave, a dissatisfaction of a sort. As you walk downstairs you see a blank post it note and an idea strikes you. You write your phone number down, and your name. You leave her with the decision. An infinite series of possibilities.


	3. It’s Gonna Be The Way You Always Dreamt About It, But It’s Gonna Be Really Happening To You

You’ve been waiting for your phone to light up, to start ringing and vibrating. Jean hasn’t yet called. It’s Sunday afternoon and you’re giving up hope for a call or even just a text. A verdict. Something. You’re definitely more than a little sad she hasn’t even said she doesn’t want to see you. Saturday was long and uncomfortable, marking tests and checking your phone every five minutes. You don’t have her number. She only has yours. You think about going to her before realising what a ludicrous thing to do that would be. You don’t teach her son but you’ve spoken to him before. You lay your pens out on the desk, feigning productivity, fiddling with the paper clip holding together some unread homework which wasn’t due back to the students until Tuesday anyway. Your phone starts to ring and you almost have a heart attack, you grab it off your desk almost dropping it in the process. You answer the unknown number.

“Hello?” You say, hurriedly.

“Hello, you’ve been in a car accident in the last 6 months and could be due compensation.”

“Oh for fucks sake.” You sigh and put the phone down again, every last grain of hope gone. Maybe you wrote down the wrong phone number, maybe she really just isn’t interested. You finally begin to mark the homework, some of the students really have no clue about any of it, you don’t know what that says about your teaching. You’ve almost finished the pile and 4pm is nearing when your phone starts to ring again. Again you have that small adrenaline rush. That eagerness to know.

“Hello?” You say.

“Y/N, it’s Jean.” Your heart almost stops at the sound of her gravelly voice on the other side of the phone.

“Jean.” You say, unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

“Hello, I was wondering if you’d like to come over in half an hour? My son has gone to stay with his friend tonight as it’s a bank holiday tomorrow.” You’d forgotten about the holiday and smile, thank god for the extra day off.

“Of course, what’s the address, I didn’t catch it when I was there.” You say, grabbing one of your pens and a post-it note.

“43 Ashford Street.” You smile and write it down, your heartbeat is racing at the thought of being there again.

“Ok.”

“Well, I’ll see you in half an hour.” Jean says and you can hear her jewelry clacking together as she moves.

“Alright. See you later.” You reply and Jean hangs up the phone. You hug your phone to your chest, a wide smile on your face, you beam to no one but yourself.

You sit anxiously on the bus, wearing a floral patterned shirt, some blue flared jeans and a bandana in your hair. You watch the other people onboard, looking out of windows and playing on their phones, listening to music. You just sit in happy silence, yearning to be where you will be in a few minutes. Yearning to be with Jean, in Jean, on Jean.

It was a little walk from the bus stop to her house, a winding country road. You hadn’t noticed how beautiful the location was before but it truly was. Lush green trees and flower beds, Jean’s Station Wagon sitting outside, the blue metal shining in the afternoon sun. Your heartbeat quickens as you approach her door. You grasp the knocker and hit the door 3 solid times. You stand back and wait for her. She comes to the door a smile on her face, wearing an orange dress cinched with a belt, showing off her figure. You both step inside.

“Would you like something to eat, Y/N? I wouldn’t normally ask but it is almost dinner time and I really wouldn’t mind.” Jean says, she never breaks eye contact.

“Please.” You say, realising you’d barely eaten all day. Jean goes through to the kitchen, her house is very open plan, you watch her for a few minutes before going through to join her.

“What are you making?” You ask, leaning against the counter.

“Pasta.” She replies, filling a pan with uncooked pasta and boiling water, she places it on the stovetop and turns the burner on.

“So.” She says, leaning against the opposite counter. You look at her and she looks absolutely gorgeous in the afternoon light, a slight smile on her face.

“So.” You reply and you’re mirroring her completely, down to your facial expression.

“What are we going to do after we eat?” Jean asks, tilting her head even though she knows the answer.

“I don’t know, go for a moonlit drive, skinny dipping, read Brontë to each other?” Jean laughs, baring her teeth and her nose scrunching. Butterflies erupt in your stomach. You’re truly smitten with this woman. Jean catches herself and you smile as she turns away to stir the pasta. You both hover in vaguely comfortable silence as she cooks. She goes to get a sieve for the water but you’re standing in front of the cupboard, her side brushes you as she reaches behind you.

Despite it only being pasta it tasted amazing, you talked about little things as you ate, Jean asking questions about your teaching job and you asking Jean questions about her work. You watch as she almost drops a piece of pasta but catches it with her mouth. You swallow and she looks at you knowingly. When you’re both done she tidies the plates away. She takes your hand and leads you up to her bedroom. You sit down on the bed and sits in your lap, kissing you, her hands tangled in your hair, she unties your bandana and discards it on the floor. She pushes against you, her kisses passionate and she tastes like tomato sauce. She slips her tongue in your mouth and you touch her ass through her dress, she pushes into your hand, the material is thin and you can feel that she isn’t wearing anything underneath. You smile as she kisses you. You put your hand up her dress, tracing around her pussy, you brush her labia and feel moisture as you run a finger through her folds. She moans into your lips, her hands holding your face, you look in her eyes, centimetres away as she withdraws from your lips. Her pupils are dilated and she looks hungry.

“Can you lie down?” Jean nods and gets off your lap, you move and she lies down on the bed, she’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen, her face already flushed, her lips open just a touch, her nipples poking through her dress. You move over her and she undoes her belt and takes the dress off, revealing her fully naked body. She’s so fucking hot, her nipples pert and pink, her stomach smooth and toned her legs are open for you. She undoes the buttons on your shirt, revealing the pink lacy bra you’d picked out just for her. She runs a hand over your covered boob, feeling your nipple through the lace. Her arms go around you and you feel the tension leave as she unclasps your bra. It goes on the floor along with the rest of you and Jean’s clothes. She looks at you and licks her peachy lips. You lean down and kiss her, a hand on her face.

“Fuck me.” She whispers in your ear, her voice low and needy. You readily oblige. You run a finger through her folds and she’s wet, so wet, even more so than before. You circle her clit and watch as she brings her own hand to her chest, playing with her nipples. You finger her for a little while more, building her up until she’s almost there but take your hand away before she finishes. You lean down and kiss the points of her hip bones before you’re in between her legs, kissing her thighs and you lick her, tasting her, her wonderful saltiness. You play with her clit before letting yourself go inside her, but when you do she moans and thrusts against your face, you fuck her, sucking and flicking and thrusting until she comes with almost a scream. Beads of sweat make her thighs shimmer. You sit up and look down at her, a lazy smile on her face as her arms lay by her sides. She grabs you and brings your lips again to hers.

“Fuck, I can taste myself.” She says in between kisses and you kiss her harder but she stops you and draws away.

“Do you want to do something fun?” She asks, standing up, her legs wobble a little and she wraps the yellow robe that hangs from her bedpost around herself.

“What kind of fun?”


End file.
